Princess of Twilight: Gone Past Cleveland
by Doc Stewart
Summary: Part One of the old-fashioned “girl conquers hell dimension, girl says ‘what now?’” concludes. Ch. 6: Willow learns just how she got to rule New Sunnydale.
1. I've Made All Your Travel Arrangements

Princess of Twilight Part One: Gone Past Cleveland  
  
A Post-BTVS Fanfiction By Doc Stewart  
  
Description: The "unique" Willow-centric spin-off comes to Fanfiction.net in series form. As promised, it's an old-fashioned "girl goes to hell dimension, girl conquers hell dimension, girl says 'what now?'" story. W/T (eventually).  
  
Copyright: All characters copyright of Mutant Enemy; I'm just borrowing them under the good graces of ME and Fox. Original story copyright 2003.  
  
Distribution: Please ask first (dr_stewart@hotmail.com), but I will generally grant permission to redistribute this story, with proper credits.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Through the end of S7  
  
Author's Note: Several months ago I released a "teaser roll" (Fanfiction.net story ID 1315750) for a... ahem... highly original, Willow- centric spin-off of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I'm pleased to announce that the "spin-off" has been "greenlighted" (at least on Fanfiction.net, anyway), given (1) the positive interest in the teaser roll (I had asked for sacks of cash as encouragement, but I'll take some good reviews instead), and (2) the fact that I think the concept just might be worth pursuing. If nothing else, I certainly haven't seen any concepts for spin- offs quite like this - or anywhere near it, actually. New chapters will appear roughly once a week.  
  
The invitation to provide support for this series by sending me large amounts of money still applies. To find how you can help me live a lifestyle to which I'd like to become accustomed, e-mail dr_stewart@hotmail.com.  
  
Chapter 1: "I've Made All Your Travel Arrangements"  
  
Kennedy:  
  
9 a.m. Time for somebody special to head off to her final college exams. I follow her across our room, kissing her briefly, but long enough for me to use my pierced tongue for an instant. She giggles and blushes slightly.  
  
"Be good, Willow," I say. "Don't embarrass us by getting under a 99 percent, or anything."  
  
Willow laughs. "No problem. See you later, sweetie." Her green eyes look at me, filled with growing affection that could soon be love.  
  
Could is the operative word, of course. I see the slight glazing around her irises that tells the truth. She's being controlled, being forced to fall for me.  
  
Her Scooby colleagues are also being controlled, but not as much. They're just forced to accept me as a slayerette at face value, who just happens to know so much more than any other SIT and who is suddenly Willow's new girlfriend, despite everything that happened last May. They all have the same slight glazing, too, but so far I'm the only one who's noticed.  
  
Not that the mind control spells being used are easy to detect, by any means. I should know. I've spent months putting them in place, slowly upping the strength. Have to be careful with love and other mind control spells, especially with competent people like this crew. Jack up the power too fast, make someone swoon too quickly, and people will notice.  
  
But I'm good, so they don't.  
  
I've grown quite fond of Willow Rosenberg. She's a sweet, caring girl, beautiful and smart as hell (although with terrible self-esteem problems and lacking in wisdom - but hey, she's been through a lot and she's only 22) and as for the sex - well, that's been far from the worst part of this expedition. In more time she could really be something special. We could be something special - I've yet to find the right consort. But that's decades in the future.  
  
What's more important is right now, defined as the next 24 hours. I'm on a tight schedule here.  
  
This morning, Willow will take her final exams. She will get A's on all of her tests, ruining several curves. That's the most certain part.  
  
This afternoon, Willow and the others will learn that the First has raised another army of uebervamps, and is preparing to smash its way through the hellmouth in Cleveland. Tonight, they'll catch a rush flight to the city. That's almost as certain.  
  
Early tomorrow morning, Willow and the others will begin to battle the army of uebervamps in the Cleveland hellmouth. The trick that worked the last time - the Amulet of Miraculous Ass-Saving (actually it's the Amulet of I Slipped It to Wolfram and Hart) - won't be available, since it's currently buried under millions of tons of rock. This is good, since it meant that I didn't have to break the thing surreptitiously. They will quickly realize that without the amulet, twenty half-trained slayers are of almost no value against twenty thousand uebervamps.  
  
Now, of course, there are thousands of slayers out there now, but as they're all hundreds to thousands of miles away, and have no idea what's going on, most of them will be occupied kneecapping their fellow peers for their lunch money. What an 'effing mess that's going to be - I just hope that we can to fix the situation quickly enough it doesn't become a Truly Major Problem. And, what a crying shame about Spike.  
  
But, I digress. Anyway, once the realization that they're ueber-chow sinks into them, Willow will have a sudden epiphany. She will realize that she can cast an equally good spell to burn all the uebervamps to ash and crush the cavern. The spell will work just like the last time with the amulet, since it will be applied to another hellmouth cavern filled by the cerebrally challenged First with another horde of uebervamps. Cause, hey, it worked so well the last time. That's also pretty certain.  
  
Too bad there's a cost. The equally good spell will involve Willow letting herself be incinerated and crushed to death by the falling cavern (just like Spike - sigh). This means she will have to choose to sacrifice herself. This is the less certain part.  
  
Of course, I'll try to make it as certain as possible. Willow will have had this epiphany since I will beam it into her head, carefully modifying it to disguise the fact that the burning and crushing part is totally unnecessary. I'll also hit her with a sudden urge to redeem herself by sacrificing her life for the planet, and a surge of unbearable grief over her deceased lover, Tara Maclay. If all goes well, there were be pleas, and hugs, and tears, and a great and noble sacrifice to Save the World.  
  
So, tomorrow morning, Willow Rosenberg will die. And I will have killed her.  
  
Hey, it's not like I have much of a choice. It's why I'm in this forsaken dimension anyway. I'm not here to be cannon fodder to Bat Boy, or even fight Its Wussiness. The Scoobies can do that mostly on their own. (You'd think that an ancient entity woven into the fabric of space and time wouldn't be such a wuss, but you'd think wrong.)  
  
I'm here to deal with the real apocalyptic threat - Willow. Should the redhead really catch fire, the Scoobies will not be spending months bickering with her; they'll be dead in minutes. Plus the whole planet being dead, and that's just for starters. And, the risk is far too great to ignore - her power's just too strong for her body. Hell, her power would be a stretch for my body. Every time I look at her, I'm amazed that she hasn't gone boom already.  
  
I first saw Willow two years ago this May, when I was sucked into this world as a side effect of Glorificus's dumb-ass attempt to use the Key to get back to her own dimension. Circling overhead, wings fixed in attack position, I was about to launch a wicked aether blast at Glorificus, when I realized that the people fighting her on the ground seemed to have the situation more or less under control. And then I saw that there were three god-like entities on the ground - Glorificus, the Key, and a red-headed girl intermittently spouting forty-foot high fountains of dark energy without realizing it. Never seen anything like it.  
  
I next felt the presence of the fireball a year ago, when she was about to burn this dimension to a cinder. Proserpexa, whose knowledge Willow was seeking to start the barbeque, was supposedly quite taken with the now black-haired harbinger of the apocalypse. She seriously thought about helping with the incineration, until she realized she had a pile of Earth investments about to go up in smoke. To this day, Xander Harris has no idea how he got to that field so fast. That Proserpexa, always looking out for number one. Not like there wasn't already a huge line that day, but the Queen of Blades sure can be effective when she puts her mind to it.  
  
Of course, even the start of Willow's spell managed to make a mess of the barriers between the dimensions. They required a major amount of resources to repair. Resources that could have been better spent upgrading my wing of the palace. That's why I'm here, to figure out what the hell is going on with this girl, and what do about her. I've figured out enough to make her die tomorrow. May is turning into a crap-ass month.  
  
The plan is simple. Temporarily stabilize the witch, stop the acute power bleeding, stop the destructive urges, then kill her as soon as it's safe - where "safe" is defined by what could happen both in Willow's current life and in her next. The nice thing about having her die on a hellmouth is that her soul will be captured and reincarnated in a local dimension, probably the Morcalthian Mines. The mines are a downright nasty place, but she shouldn't have a problem handling it in the short term.  
  
We'll find her and rescue her. Then we'll upgrade her body, putting all that power in something that might actually contain it. It should be a piece of cake. She's already got a complete set of the Books of Ascension in her head, courtesy of her vengeance binge last May.  
  
Then we'll figure out what's what. We'll figure out where she got all that earth-shaking power from, because right now we sure as hell don't have a clue. Someday, she'll even thank us.  
  
To date, everything's gone okay. Stabilizing's gone fine. She's no longer spending every waking minute fighting urges to give into the grief, guilt and rage. She even has some happy moments, here with me and the others. Too bad that can't last.  
  
So, now just the killing remains. Did I say I hate to do this? But I have to. Besides, that's what I need to do to go home.  
  
Home, with tall mountains and vast plains and beautiful white skies. Home, with my half a palace, all of a realm, and a phalanx of servants (I've even had to do my own laundry here - WTF is that?) Home, where I can stop pretending to be a human and be myself.  
  
Home, where I can fly. Home, where I can burn.  
  
I'm shaken out my reverie by soft hands and worried green eyes.  
  
"Kennedy? Are you okay? You really spaced on me, there."  
  
I look at her and smile. "I'm fine. I was just thinking about what a hot babe you are."  
  
Willow blushes and smiles. Did I mention that I'm damn good? 


	2. Hey! This Place Isn't on the Itinerary

Chapter 2: "Hey! This Place Isn't On the Itinerary"  
  
The comparative peace and quiet of Cell 5903 was suddenly broken by a dark magic vortex materializing in the center of the rock-walled chamber. The cell was rocked by a gale force wind and showers of sparks, causing the previous inhabitant to clutch the cell's bars for dear life.  
  
In a few seconds, the vortex wavered, changed shape, and became a young woman with flaming red hair. She was dressed in prison rags, eyes closed as if asleep.  
  
The young woman shuddered and stretched a few times, then slowly opened her eyes.  
  
"Where am I?" she whispered to herself.  
  
* * *  
  
Willow Rosenberg:  
  
"Where am I?" I whisper to myself.  
  
I hear metal-scraping sounds to my left. I look towards the noise, through the bars of the cell, and see a procession of mining cars slowly squeaking by. Each car is filled to the brim with some type of metallic ore that gives off a dull, copperish glow.  
  
I gasp when I see who's pushing the carts - a mixture of humans and demons of various types, but all trudging with their heads down, all wearing dirty prison rags, and all straining against the carts with their heavy loads and un-lubricated wheels.  
  
Soon, the prisoner-train comes to a screeching halt. A floppy-eared green demon - Goddess, he's only a child - looks like he's lost his footing, he fell on his knees. A much taller and larger horned demon, outfitted in shining black armor, starts screaming at the boy. The boy slowly rolls over, but not fast enough for the guard, who's still shouting. He's pulled out a whip, and - Oh Goddess. The boy's screams are terrible - but he's brave, he's managed to pull himself up with pure will, and now he's got the cart moving again.  
  
I can feel the rage building inside of me. I start to picture what the guard would look like without any skin... no, Willow, I can't do that, not now, not yet. I bite my lip and force the picture down. I have to figure out what's going first, I remind myself.  
  
I look down my own body. I'm wearing the same prison rags as those forced to move the carts, just cleaner. Soon, I'm going to be out there, straining at the carts, being whipped, just like all of them.  
  
I'm in hell. I'm not surprised. Yup. When you kill people and try to destroy the whole world, this is where you go. But somehow I'd hoped... well, it doesn't matter, because now I'm in the place defined as being without hope.  
  
I'm not ready to let the reality sink in, yet I force myself to laugh, even if it is bitter. "Have you really done it, Willow? Have you really managed to go to hell?" I ask out loud. I don't normally talk to myself, but hey, I'm all alone, and I'm, like, really in hell, so...  
  
I'm startled to get a "yes" answer.  
  
"Yes. You're in a hell dimension. One of them, anyway," says a small, female voice to my right.  
  
I jerk my head around and turn to face a blonde, teenage girl kneeling next to me. It only takes me a second to remember when I last saw her. I feel like I'm going to throw up - oh Goddess, it can't be, I sacrificed everything, and I mean everything, to defeat it, it can't be the First...  
  
She takes my hand, and her hand is solid. "It's okay. I'm not the First," says Cassie Newton.  
  
I breathe a sigh of relief. I manage to say a few words. "Sorry... it's just..."  
  
"I understand," she says. She even sounds like she does, which isn't possible, but hey, she's at least trying to be nice, and I need someone to talk to right now.  
  
I put my head in my hands. "One moment I'm sacrificing myself to seal Cleveland's hellmouth and defeat the First, and the next I'm in a hell dimension. I'm having a really bad day. "  
  
"Bad days are pretty much all we have here," says Cassie.  
  
"Yeah, I get that. But, how did I get here?" I say. "Actually," I pause, "I know. At least for me, I know why I'm in hell. But why are you here, Cassie? You didn't do anything to deserve this. And as for that little boy..."  
  
Cassie lets out a bitter giggle. "What, you think St. Peter or Osiris judged our souls and found us wanting? Our being here has nothing to do with cosmic justice, Willow. Maybe a cosmic joke, instead. I died on a top of a hellmouth, remember? That's how they were able to claim me."  
  
They? Huh? I'm confused.  
  
Looks like she can tell I'm confused. "Where were you, right before you di.. came here?"  
  
"Uh... I was near Cleveland, in the hellmouth near there. We were fighting the First Evil, and a big army of super-vampires, and losing. Then, I got this big flash of inspiration, on how to defeat the First and its minions, and close off the hellmouth once and for all. Of course, I had to incinerate myself and be crushed by thousands of tons in rocks in the process, but hey, it didn't even hurt that much for too long," I laugh.  
  
"Actually, you look pretty good," she says, and giggles. "But that's how you got here, then. If you die on a hellmouth, or from certain kinds of magic spells, or pledge your soul to certain demons and then die, you can end up here. They can grab your soul out of the aether, and reincarnate you as a slave here."  
  
I look down and realize I'm breathing, and that my heart is being. So I am alive, reincarnated, as a slave in a hell dimension.  
  
"Yup. You're alive," says Cassie. "You just materialized here a few minutes ago. Pretty spectacular arrival, too - my head is still ringing from the wind and the flames."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry; you weren't hurt, were you?"  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. It's nice to know people who can really make an entrance." She laughs. "But you haven't entered into a very good life, I'm afraid. They own you now."  
  
"Who is they?" I ask Cassie.  
  
"The rulers of this place. They run a mine here, in this dimension, in the service of the First. The ore they mine here - it helps give a lot of demonic things their power, including the First."  
  
"But... I thought the First was dead... I killed it..." I realized I must have failed. Oh, Goddess...  
  
"I don't think you failed," says Cassie quickly. How does that girl seem to know what I'm thinking, I wonder. "First of all, the First is like a cosmic force, so you can't kill it, just defeat it and imprison it, somehow. Second of all, the guards here have been very upset about something for the last day or so, and they're even nastier than usual. They've been saying something about how "both landings of the 'First Wave' failed, that the hellmouths are gone, and that they're going to have to 'do it right, this time.'"  
  
"What do you mean, do it right?" I ask.  
  
"That's where the ore we mine here comes in. It's very powerful, kind of like a dark magic version of high-grade coal; you can use it to cast massive spells. Soon, they will have enough ore for the First to smash the barrier between the worlds and send a Black Army to conquer Earth, hellmouths or no hellmouths. Properly, this time - the warriors in the Black Army will be orders of magnitude stronger than the uebervamps you've been fighting, Willow. No one on Earth will be able to stem the tide this time."  
  
I choke back a sob. "No... not after everything we've been through," I whisper.  
  
Cassie, surprisingly, doesn't respond to me. "Of course, to mine the ore, they need workers, and slaves are the cheapest. So most of the souls they drag here are reincarnated as their slaves - a few, with the requisite 'qualities' get to be soldiers. In my case, they wanted to use my psychic gifts. That's why they treat me better than most of the others."  
  
She smiles, weakly. "I don't want to help them, but I don't have a choice - they can invade my mind. They even used me to help torture you - remember?" A tear runs down her cheek.  
  
I move to hold the teenager. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."  
  
She brightens. "I know. And, some stuff I manage to hide. The psychic connections run both ways, so that's how I know about the mine and the First's plans."  
  
I stroke Cassie's dirt-stained hair. "Oh, wow. Sounds awful." Another good one, Willow! Can't even comfort someone properly, but it's kind of hard to, in a place like this.  
  
Cassie actually let's out a soft laugh. "I think it's about to get better. Maybe, it won't be such a crappy day in this hell dimension after all." She bends close to me, and whispers in my ear. "You still have your powers, don't you?"  
  
Powers? How does she know about that? Goddess!  
  
"I'm psychic, remember? Besides, I hear stuff and know stuff from my torture sessions. The guards are pissed at the Slayer, but they're royally pissed at a 'red-headed magical bitch,' whom they can't wait to... well, I don't need to give you the details of what they want to do to you."  
  
Oh, oh... well, if that's how they want to play, we'll play. I quickly query my psyche. Hello, dark, out of control power, are you there? The power answers yes, in a huge way. It takes every bit of my will power to tamp it down. I see my stupidity in giving into my rage even for a second. "Yes," I manage to sputter, "Oh, Goddess... even stronger than before..."  
  
Cassie presses herself to me, whispering quietly. "Willow, you have to listen to me. It's hard to explain, but - you're like the fly in their ointment. They haven't connected you with the witch who just ruined their plans. They think you're weak, that you're just going to be another slave, maybe with some minor magical abilities they can exploit. They don't know what you can do. But I do. You can fight them, Willow. You can destroy them."  
  
My power? She wants me to use my power? Become - it - again? "But - Goddess, Cassie, you have know idea what I can do, what could happen. What I did... I..."  
  
She smiles at me, with a satisfied grin. I hear her voice inside my mind, and realize she's been reading my thoughts the whole time.  
  
[Oh, I know what you did, Willow. I know this is hard for you, but you have to be strong. Like an Amazon.]  
  
I haven't heard those words since the First, and before that - from my love. I don't have time to be hurt or angry before Cassie thinks again.  
  
[I felt your rage when that thing whipped that little boy, felt the power surge through you. You can save us, Willow. You just have to bring Dark Willow back.]  
  
Now I feel like I really am going to throw up. Does she have any idea what she's asking? Any idea at all? Goddess, it's been pure torture for me over the past year, from the guilt and the pain, and the endless urges to go Dark Phoenix on my own. And she's actually encouraging me?  
  
I try to make her understand. "But, but... if I let myself become her again, really do it, I really won't come back... I don't know what could happen... I could easily destroy all of you..."  
  
She grins at me again. [Hey, it's not like any of us slaves are going to get in your way. No one's going to try to kick your ass to save you this time.]  
  
I feel like I've just been kicked in the stomach. How much does she know?  
  
[And when you're done - there are others of us who can bring you back.]  
  
"You've got to be kidding. What, are you going to tell me a story about a blue crayon this time? Not gonna work."  
  
[You think the yellow crayon story worked the last time, along with Daddy and his super-special magic spell? You know, the one that caused you to want to end the world? Really? Come now, Willow, you're supposed to be the smart one.] She smiles, with an "I've got a secret" look.  
  
I feel another kick to the stomach. How much don't I know?  
  
[I bet you think it was a totally random bullet that killed Tara, too? Oh, yeah, and Warren Mears just happened to turn his body over ninety degrees to "accidentally" blow away Tara right in front of you? With a million-to- one shot for a professional sniper? Right after you'd just had your unbelievably heart-warming reunion, when you were most vulnerable? And her heart's blood exploding on your shirt - I mean, wow, you'd think it was scripted or something. Hmm...]  
  
Tara, baby... oh, Goddess, you're right, they murdered you, I can remember like it just happened... I can feel the rage inside of me flare up, the shock, the despair, the guilt for not protecting you...  
  
"Who killed her?" I demand.  
  
I barely hear a loud clanking outside the cell.  
  
[Willow... I don't know exactly, but I do know she was murdered. I can tell you what little more I know later, but right now we're running out of time. They'll be here soon to take you to your "orientation" - make that first torture session,] she thinks. [That would be the best time to do it - go full Amazon on them. Because they're close to having enough ore, Willow. They'll be able to break through to Earth soon - and then everyone you knew, everyone you loved will die. They will all become slaves. And in a few decades of slavery and torture...]  
  
"Their minds are destroyed, and they truly die," I realize.  
  
Cassie nods. [You understand. You have to save us - and Earth,] she thought. [You're the only who can.]  
  
Well, okay, but, but... maybe there's some time to think about this, maybe there's another way we can think of...  
  
Cassie's voice practically screams in my head. [No! Willow, you don't understand. "Close" doesn't mean think it over - close means just hours away. The guards said that this is the last mining shift before the invasion. The soldiers of the Black Army are already on their way to the staging area. If you don't do this, Willow, Earth will fall in the next twelve hours.]  
  
For a second, I feel the worst pain I've ever felt. Then I feel nothing. Well, maybe I still feel a little. But it's all slipping away.  
  
Oh, Goddess. I'm going to do it. Tara, baby, I'm so sorry, but there's no hope for me now. I was so selfish, sweetie, I wanted you so much, and I thought maybe I might see you again, even for someone like me. But I always knew I couldn't, that I couldn't possibly deserve you, and being sent to hell has just proven it. So this is for the best. The people here will be free of both their current masters, and just once I'll manage to save the Earth rather than threaten it. And then everyone will be free of an even worse threat, maybe the worst of all. Me.  
  
I know you won't be able to forgive me, but I hope that somehow you'll understand just a little. I couldn't protect you - I defamed you instead - but with my last actions I might be able to protect someone else. I don't know why you loved me, Tara, but I want you know how much I love you, and how grateful I am. Goodbye, my love.  
  
Goodbye...  
  
* * *  
  
Willow's eyes began to darken, as did her hair. "Tell me what I need to know," she commanded Cassie.  
  
A few minutes later, the daily line-up in the central chamber of Cell Block 5 began routinely. Today had been a very busy day for arrivals, with three new slaves to "indoctrinate." That meant that Skelzic, Subwarden of Block 5, was about to have a good day. He loved welcoming the new slaves. He hoped he'd get to pulverize at least one of them.  
  
He quickly adjusted his oh-so-imposing black spiked armor, brandished his spiked club, and turned to face the small line of worm-like prisoners. He marched up and down the line a few times, then started laying down the law. "Whatever you were, whoever you think you are, that is gone now. You are a slave for us. Do you understand?"  
  
Skelzic's favorite part now came up. He turned to the first prisoner in the line, a quivering middle-aged man with a large paunch. Oh yes, today would be a good day.  
  
"Who are you?" he demanded.  
  
"My name is Smitty. Please, there must be some mistake, I don't know how I possibly could have gotten here..."  
  
Smitty was cut off by Skelzic's spiked club smashing his skull. The man dropped to the floor. [Oh, yeah.] thought Skelzic. [Feeling the power.] He turned to the next prisoner, a teenaged boy.  
  
"Who are you?" he demanded.  
  
"A slave, sir," said the boy, as obsequiously as he could manage. [Right answer, fast learner,] thought Skelzic. [Potential solider material here.]  
  
He turned to the third prisoner. This looked to be one of those freaky demon-worshipping chicks who tried to pledge their souls to one of the mine's patrons, and succeeded. She had jet black hair, an alabaster face so pale that some of her veins were showing, and - even freakier - jet black eyes. [Oooh,] thought Skelzic. [Hope she's obedient to her new master. Talk about an on-the-job perk.]  
  
"Who are you?" demanded the Subwarden.  
  
The girl just looked at him and smiled. Skelzic was taken aback. [Impertinent wench,] he thought.  
  
"Are you deaf? Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Willow," said the girl, in a commanding voice that chilled his eardrums. "But you will call me Mistress."  
  
[What the...] Skelzic swung his arm back hard. [Time to teach the bitch some manners,] he thought. Then he thought nothing else other than pure agony, as his armor-plated hide was ripped off his body and his quivering flesh burst into flame.  
  
"You never learn. Pity," said Willow.  
  
Skelzic's guards rushed to attack their chief's killer. They each managed to move about three steps before they each burst into flames.  
  
"You're all being mean to these poor people. I hate mean demons," said Willow.  
  
An ear-splitting alarm went off in the chamber. A squad of on-duty infantry, dressed in the same spiked armor as the subwarden, charged into the chamber. Willow just smiled, and extended her arms. Fireballs appeared in the dark witch's hands for an instant, then shot towards the armored demons, hitting their marks in a shower of white and violet sparks. The demons burst into flame, their corpses falling to the stone floor in a cascade of muffled booms of before being consumed altogether.  
  
Willow stared at the conflagration she had caused. Thin rivulets of black oil ran out of the corners of her obsidian eyes.  
  
"Now you're all going to burn," she said, softly. "And this time, no one is going to stop me. She promised." 


	3. We'll Just Fix the Place Up a Bit

Chapter 3: "We'll Just Fix the Place up a Bit"  
  
Proserpexa, Queen of the Mirathian Realm, Mistress of Blades, and one of the most powerful warlords in the demon realms, was bored.  
  
Everything was going according to plan. Her investments on Earth were going well. Production in the Mirathian Realm was comfortably ahead of quota. Even her risky campaign to acquire a senior partnership in the multidimensional law firm of Wolfram and Hart had gone far easier than expected - she'd only had to assassinate two partners and the firm's head of HR, and what was the fun in that?  
  
As she carefully adjusted her pink designer suit, and precisely rearranged the files on her mahogany desk for the fifth time that day, she mused on her situation. She was an executive. Executives needed to crises to face and conquer. Otherwise, what was she there for? How could she justify her salary? (Besides the fact that she owned and had complete control of everything, of course.)  
  
She sighed. She comforted herself with the fact that when faced with a wish for excitement, nature seldom left the wish unanswered for long.  
  
And indeed, just then the priority phone rang. She answered. It was one of her high-ranking economic lackeys, a Subminister of Trade who specialized in mineral resources. He was clearly hyperventilating about something, which was not unusual for a demon given to having spasms over a two percent drop in the price of lodestone. However, this time he sounded unusually panicked, even for him.  
  
"Your highness (huff, huff)... there's a situation... (huff, huff)"  
  
"Breathe, Subminister. What is it? Price of lodestone drop by ten percent? We'll make do, we have the reserves."  
  
"No, your highness. Something unimaginable. (huff, huff)"  
  
"Drop of twenty percent, then?"  
  
"No!... your highness - it's the Morcalthian Mines. (huff, huff)"  
  
"What about them? Sudden increase in the price of Morcalthian ore?"  
  
"Your highness - that's what I've been trying to tell you. (huff) Right now there is no price of Morcalthian ore."  
  
"Make sense, Subminister."  
  
"Your highness (huff, huff) - the mines - they're on fire. All of the guards, all the overseers have been killed."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your highness, I'm not kidding. View the mines."  
  
Proserpexa grumbled, but cast a quick incantation and a vision of the Morcalthian Mines appeared. A pillar of white and purple flame rose from the main shaft.  
  
Now this was a crisis!  
  
Proserpexa, Chief Executive Officer, swung into action. "Summon my council. Have them meet here in four hours. Find out everything you can. Do anything you need to in order to find out. I assume you understand the definition of anything, Subminister?"  
  
"Yes, your highness."  
  
The phone clicked off. Proserpexa leaned back in her leather chair and grinned.  
  
* * *  
  
William Gray, also known as "Spike":  
  
Sodding hell! I think, for the fifteenth time today. Not that it's done me any good yet, but you never know.  
  
I stretch my legs out on the stone bunk, trying to get some rest. I've only got another half an hour left before another seven-hour shift, shoveling ore into carts as their little work-ass.  
  
I turn my head slightly. Mistake. My "elder" cellmate is staring at me.  
  
"You don't still think I'm going to eat you, do you?"  
  
Jonathan shakes his head. "In this place, you take what you can, and you take it fast. You haven't, which means you won't." He levels his gaze at me, and nods slightly.  
  
"That was supposed to be profound?" I ask, wryly.  
  
"Profound as it gets, in a place like this." He levels his gaze at me, and nods slightly.  
  
So it's yet another attempt by Jonathan Levenson to play the grizzled, battle-hardened veteran. Bugger. I s'pose it might work with some of the tourists, but when you're old enough to be the veteran's great-great- grandfather it's just pissing me off.  
  
At least he's gotten better than last evening, when he spent hours going off about "needing to understand both the way things are, and how they really are," and whether I'm "up to the challenge", "am man enough", and "can handle the truth," over and over. He wouldn't stop. And then when he started going off on how "if I proved worthy, I might get to see the Oracle," and how the "Oracle was our best hope for freedom," I just about stuffed him.  
  
But even that was much better than when I first got to this sodding dimension, when it took me a good half-hour to coax grizzle-boy away from cowering behind his bunk.  
  
So I turn to my "junior" cell-mate instead.  
  
"What do you think, Andrew?"  
  
Andrew Wells quickly lifted his head out of its crouch position. "No, Spike, I certainly don't think you're going to eat us. You're good and sweet and nice souled-Spike now. And I'm good and brave and noble Andrew. And, Jonathan, I'm not going to stab you again or anything, because I'm not being controlled by the First anymore, cause, well, the First is dead. Or at least that was Willow's plan - you know, to destroy the First, but I got beheaded by a Bringer before I could see if it worked. At least I think I got beheaded. It's hard to tell, you know. One minute I was surrounded, the next minute - poof! I'm here! But anyway, I'm not going to stab anybody, and that's the important thing, because I'm good and..."  
  
Jonathan cut him off. "Well then, that's a relief. Rather than an agonizing re-death, I just have centuries of back-breaking labor and torture to keep looking forward to." Now that's the Jonathan I remember, Mr. Bloddy Sotting Sunshine.  
  
"Yeah, mate. Been in tough spots before, but this one just about takes it, " I muse. "It will take years to figure out how to get through these bars and out of this prison. And that's not even considering what we do once we get out of here. I don't even know what sodding hell dimension we're in, and from the sound of it, neither do the two of you. Hopefully, Jonathan's 'Oracle' has thought up some ideas, but that's probably just wishful thinking. Hard to see how it can get any worse."  
  
That pretty much kills the conversation. Jonathan goes back to staring - although at least he's not staring at me anymore - and Andrew has gone back to his crouch. I suppose I should do a better job cheering up my fellow blokes, and otherwise figure out how to play hero, but right now I don't feel heroic. I really don't see how it can get any worse.  
  
Now that's a challenge to the universe. And the universe doesn't like being challenged. Oops.  
  
So a few minutes later, it's no surprise when the steady clanks of the mine cars and the curses of the bloody guards are stopped by the sounds of explosions and the screams of the guards, sounding like they're being shredded.  
  
"It's worse," says Jonathan.  
  
Right outside the bars of our cell is a cast-iron doorway leading to the mine passages. At least there was, until it explodes into shrapnel. Following the metal bits is a burning demon with the speed of a bullet. It promptly hits the back wall of the outside corridor and explodes into dust. Following burning dust-boy is an arc of white flames.  
  
Sodding hell. Didn't I say "Oops?"  
  
And immediately after the flame fountain is the thing that caused it - sodding hell! It's Red!  
  
But I'm left speechless. It's Red as I've never seen her before. Her hair is jet black, not fire red. Her arms are raised, and twin jets of fire rise from her hands. On her face, neck, and hands, her veins have swollen and broken, leaking black oil where blood should be. In a few places, her skin looks charred, almost to the bone. And her eyes are jet black. Any green in them - any spark of humanity - is long gone.  
  
Oh, I heard a lot about "Dark Willow." I could see it in Red's eyes all last year. Something hurt her, ripped her up, made her scared of her own shadow. I hated it, beyond the fact that we could have really used her power. Sure, the witch got too cocky, but whatever happened to her - completely broke her. No one deserves that, definitely not Red.  
  
But what was described to me as "Dark Willow" was one-tenth of what's facing me now. I've been in bad spots before, but nothing like this.  
  
She turns to face us. There's nowhere to run. Oh, well. Didn't want to be a work-ass, anyway. Kind of liked the idea of being a hero, especially given the last century or so, but that's not working out, either.  
  
The two blokes take it well. They don't cry or scream. They just say a few, appropriate, parting words.  
  
"We're toast," says Andrew.  
  
"Extra crispy," says Jonathan.  
  
But before we're barbequed, Dark Willow speaks to us, with a voice low, growling, demonic, and seemingly lost in thought. "Free the nice slaves. Kill the mean demons," she flatly intones.  
  
She waves her arms, and the cell's bars melt into slag. She turns on her heel and walks out of the corridor, back into the mine passages. A few moments later, the explosions and screaming start up again.  
  
"Or, we could escape just by waltzing out the door, and following Red. Bugger!" I exclaim.  
  
"Aieee!" *Boom!* goes a mine captain down the hall.  
  
Jonathan nods, slowly. "But later."  
  
* * *  
  
Four hours to the minute after the Subminister of Trade's crisis-alerting phone call, the members of the Mirathian Council, the executives of the Ministry of Trade, and several partners from Wolfram and Hart assembled in Proserpexa's executive conference room.  
  
Proserpexa looked at her board. Most of the members were quaking, but only slightly. That meant they had failed to get the situation under control, but had made significant progress.  
  
"So, what do we know?" asked the demon ruler.  
  
"Much," said the Subminister of Trade, who had managed to stop hyperventilating, "but the more we learn, the more disturbing it gets. At 1:05 pm yesterday afternoon, in the common time, the guards in Cell Block 5 of the Morcalthian Mines were showing their famed hospitality to some newly resurrected slaves."  
  
The room broke into nervous laughter.  
  
"At that point, things began to go terribly wrong. One of the prisoners began a one-slave war against the prison guards and managers."  
  
Proserpexa eyed the Subminister critically. "So? Some of those wretches are trying to rebel all the time. Occasionally, they even manage to destroy a guard. Why would this incident be any different?"  
  
The Subminister breathed deeply. "Because, your highness, most slaves aren't able to incinerate all the guards in the cell block with fireballs and psionic blasts, as this prisoner did."  
  
He placed a crystal on the table, and quickly spoke an incantation. A three-dimensional vision appeared to the assembled council. It showed a squad of Mine infantry charging into the main chamber of the cell block. The squad was hit promptly by a volley of fireballs, causing every last member of the squad to explode into flames. In just a few seconds, the soldiers were reduced to ash.  
  
The "Board of Directors" collectively gasped.  
  
The Subminister continued. "By 1:07, all the guards in Cell Block 5 had been destroyed. The Mine overseers detected the disturbance quickly, and sent a company of Guardians into the chamber."  
  
The Subminister spoke another incantation, and a new vision appeared. This one showed over a one hundred heavily armed demons, far stronger than the initial infantry, facing off in a fighting formation against an unseen foe. Seconds later, a horizontal energy pulse sliced every member of the company neatly in half. Two hundred demon chunks fell to the floor, and promptly burst into flame.  
  
"They were unsuccessful," said the Subminister. Proserpexa nodded.  
  
The Subminister continued. "Over the next thirty-five minutes, the slave managed to fight her way to the mine's central tower, freeing most of the slaves in the process."  
  
* * *  
  
"Rack:"  
  
Total bummer of a day. At least I got some dark mojo to a few slaves. Hey, anything I can do to help maintain morale. And if I can do a few favors that I can call in later, so much the better. Too bad the slaves I connected with today were so... boring.  
  
Not like Strawberry. Now that was a girl. Sure, she killed me and sent me here, but it was totally Bolero, man. Totally Bo-ler-o! Best thirty seconds of my lives. I mean it, man.  
  
Cassie claims Strawberry is actually coming soon to save us. Prophecy Girl has been with it before, but I think this time she's full of crap. I mean, she might be right, but I can't afford to have any hope like that. At least not right now.  
  
Damn. Now I'm thinking about Strawberry again. I can feel her, taste her aura. The darkness... the power... I can almost feel it for real, man. Yeah, man, it's like so real...  
  
It is real. Strawberry! She's here! I can feel her!  
  
Oh man, oh man! After her girlfriend bit it, I thought that was a surge of dark magic. But it's nothing like this. Never felt anything like it... she's tearing the mines apart.  
  
I can hear the screams. I can feel the flames. Oh, yeah.  
  
There's a boom and a crash, and the metal door down the hall is blown off its hinges. Soon after, Strawberry is standing in front of me. Violet flames are shooting out of her head and arms, and her flesh is totally charred. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  
  
I'm gonna die again. And I can't wait. I thought last time was the best possible, but it's nothing like this - and she hasn't even done anything to me yet.  
  
Strawberry speaks to me, with a voice low, growling, totally demonic. Oh, yeah. "Free the nice slaves. Kill the mean demons," she flatly intones.  
  
She stares at me for a minute with those oh-yeah black eyes. I grin and lick my lips. Oh, yeah, Strawberry, I've been a baad boy...  
  
But then she lets out an almost-pout. "Confused now," she whines. "Try again later." She turns on her heel and leaves. My jaw drops to the floor.  
  
Bummer of a day. But what a woman!  
  
* * *  
  
The Subminister continued. "After reaching the central tower, the slave then fought her way up the central tower to the chamber of the Lord of the Mine himself. She destroyed absolutely everything in her path. Mine Guardians, war beasts, overseers - no matter how powerful they were, they were all annihilated."  
  
He gestured towards the crystal again, but Proserpexa waved him off. "We all get the general idea," she said.  
  
The Subminister nodded. "At 1:43 pm in the afternoon, then, the slave burst into the chamber of the Lord of the Mine. As you might have expected, the dark energies the slave managed to wield, were... unprecedented. Not surprisingly, they consumed the slave's body, and probably her mind."  
  
* * *  
  
The Lord of the Mine's chamber marked the tallest point in the Realm of the Morcalthian Mines. From its crystal walls, one could see most of the Realm - the central Crown of mountains that were the home of the Mines, the gentle hills, plains, and rivers encircling the Crown in a band over two hundred miles in width, and, off in the distance, the Rim of mountains that literally marked the End of the World. The Lord of the Mine's world, for over two hundred years.  
  
At least it had been the Lord of the Mine's world until half an hour ago.  
  
The Lord of the Mine, readied his battle axe, and held his twenty-foot tall mass in as fierce a fighting position as he could manage. He kept his focus on his rage towards the slave who had somehow managed to destroy so much, and who was so close to taking away everything. It kept his mind off the fear.  
  
The spiral staircase in the middle of the chamber, made of the finest marble, had marked the Lord's daily ascent to power and riches for centuries. Now, something else was ascending the staircase.  
  
There was a blasting noise and an inhuman scream, and a thing suddenly appeared in the Lord's chamber - a skeleton with jet black eyes, and bones covered in black oil. The thing dripped a steady black rain onto the carpeting, and where the drops fell, the carpeting smoked. Surrounding the thing was a shifting pillar of crackling white and violet flame.  
  
The Lord of the Mine fell back to the two things it knew best. Fearsome rage and devotion to production.  
  
"You!" he roared. "You've ruined everything! Do you know what we're doing to have to do to make quota?"  
  
The thing was oblivious to the demon's words. Instead, it spoke with a monotone, chilling voice. "I'm broken. I saved the people, and killed the mean demons, but it was too much."  
  
"You're broken? When I'm done with you..." shouted the Lord of the Mine.  
  
The thing continued. "The people told me I could call on her and she'd fix me..."  
  
"Fix? Why, I'm going to torture you for one hundred years..."  
  
"...and when I called on her, she answered," said the thing. "She told me she'd make me a princess who can fly."  
  
The Lord of the Mine's mind reeled in confusion. "Princess? Talk some sense! Just wait until you hear how bad I'm going to torture you!"  
  
"I always wanted to be a princess," said the thing. "Even before I wanted to marry Xander and have a little white house with a picket fence and 2.1 apple-cheeked kids."  
  
"Enough!" The demon dealt with its panic the way it knew. It readied its battle axe.  
  
"All I need to do is take your power and let her rise through me," said the skeleton.  
  
The Lord of the Mine focused his rage. "Fine! Torture for a thousand years, then!" With every bit of his power, the Lord swung at the thing - and was frozen in mid-motion. The thing placed its dripping, skeletal hand on his chest.  
  
"Bored now," said the thing that had been Willow Rosenberg. "I want to fly."  
  
And the Lord of the Mine thought nothing more. Had he been able to perceive anything, he would have seen his body exploding in a cloud of crimson energy, which the skeleton promptly absorbed.  
  
For a few seconds, the skeleton stood motionless. All stood still except for the flickering pillar of white, violet, and now crimson flame surrounding it. Then, the skeleton itself wavered, became a cloud itself, and expanded, becoming ever larger and darker. When the cloud reached 50 feet across, it began to take form, vague at first, but becoming ever more defined.  
  
A few moments later, a dragon stood where the skeleton had been, covered in intricately-beveled emerald scales. Wings on her back fluttered briefly, then opened wide, covered in translucent ruby scales that shown in the afternoon sun of the realm's twin suns. The dragon opened her eyes, which were still coal black.  
  
The dragon lifted her head and let loose first a deafening roar, then a blast of white heat that shattered an entire wall of glass. She leapt out of the remains of the Lord of the Mine's chamber, and soared skyward as if caught on a massive updraft. A few minutes later, the dragon had flown over the central mountain Crown and was soaring over the Eastern Plain. The creature seemingly had no thought, no will, other than to fly to end of the realm.  
  
But in mid-flight, the dragon's eyes wavered and changed, from solid black to a familiar, albeit larger, green. The dragon rolled her head and blinked her eyes a few times, as if waking from a deep sleep. Then she made a terrible gasping noise.  
  
[What have I done?] thought Willow.  
  
And the great dragon plummeted to the ground, thousands of feet below.  
  
* * *  
  
The Mirathian Council was speechless. It fell to their ruler to break the silence.  
  
"So what you're saying is that the slave completely assimilated the energy of the Lord of the Mine, then spontaneously underwent a demonic ascension and became the living incarnation of the dragon Arthenia? Unbelievable. And you say this slave was initially human, right?"  
  
"Yes your highness - she was," said the Subminister, with surprising strength of will. "And I swear to you that's what happened. I have experienced the remembrances of some of the few guards who survived, first- hand."  
  
Proserpexa actually smiled at the executive demon. "I believe you. And - you said it was a 'her', right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I have," the ruler began, "come in contact with a human who was able to muster this much power before. Let me have the remembrances of the slave herself."  
  
The Subminister gasped. "Your highness - are you sure that's a good idea? The few servants who we've had try to experience those remembrances were killed almost immediately."  
  
"I thank you for your concern," said Proserpexa, gently. "Really. However, my guess is that the unfortunate victims tried to remember the slave right before she ascended - at the peak of her power - which would be suicide. I will access the very first remembrances. Besides, I am far more powerful than a Ministry of Trade servant."  
  
The Subminister nodded reluctantly and handed a solid black crystal to Proserpexa. She grasped the crystal, spoke an incantation - and immediately went into a seizure.  
  
Before the Council could react, however, the ruler regained control. She cut through the surprisingly great shockwave of power to focus on the source of that power. And, she saw what she expected - a familiar looking young woman with jet black hair, alabaster skin, and jet black eyes.  
  
Proserpexa let the crystal drop to the floor. "Yes, yes, it's her!" she shouted, excitedly.  
  
"Who is it, your highness?"  
  
"I've been expecting great things from that girl." And the ruler laughed with glee. Here, at last, was a real challenge.  
  
"Who?" said the Subminister, still confused.  
  
* * *  
  
The mighty green dragon lay sprawled out on the ground, in the center of an impact crater dug into the soft earth of grain fields. The dragon's eyes were closed, her wings bent and twitching slightly.  
  
A crowd of humanoid demons had formed some distance away from the dragon, eyeing the creature warily. Soft but heated whispers argued over whether the dragon was friend or foe, and whether the dragon should be helped or not, with indecision being the only decision reached.  
  
The stalemate was broken when a small child bolted from the crowd towards the head of the dragon.  
  
"Baby! Come back here!" the child's mother shouted.  
  
The child stood next to one of the dragon's closed eyes. Despite the size comparison between the dragon's eye alone and the child, the youngster was unfazed. "I'm not scared, Momma," said the young boy. "It came from the sky, and it saved us."  
  
The eye fluttered open, and promptly focused on the blue-horned demon child standing a few feet away.  
  
"Hi! I'm..." said the child, then made a sequence of clicking noises. "Who are you?"  
  
The dragon blinked a few times, as if trying to remember. Then, a low deep sound came from the enormous creature.  
  
"Willow... my name is Willow." 


	4. Under New Management

Chapter 4: "Under New Management"  
  
Willow:  
  
I came back. Again. And this time I don't know how, other than same vague memories of calling on an ancient demon... pledging myself to become the living incarnation of a... dragon, that was it, yes, the dragon Arthenia.  
  
Oh, Goddess! I'm a dragon! I'm like the Mayor! Only I'm much worse than the Mayor, cause he was only a big snake and I've got wings and claws and sharp pointy teeth and super-fiery breath!  
  
And I just... I just killed thousands. My mind keeps shouting at me that they all fought me to keep the people enslaved and supply the First in its quest to conquer the Earth... but, oh, Goddess, it doesn't help... I'm a monster. I was a monster before... but now I am in all senses of the word.  
  
I see a crowd starting to surround me. I remember before, when I first woke up, and some kid was standing in front of one of my big, dragony eyes, and actually wanted to know who I was, and seemed to want to play. Right, my name is Willow, and let's play barbequed-kid-snack! Sounds good! Oh, I didn't actually eat him, did I? Think, Willow! No, I don't think I did eat him - I just said my name was Willow, and drifted off again. Actually, kind of hungry now.  
  
But it's not like that matters. Looks like the crowd's a mix of former prisoners - humans and demons in prison rags - and a bunch of multi-colored demons wearing what looks like farming rags. They must be the local residents, who I bet were enslaved, too. And I can see that some of them have weapons. Yup, they're here to kill the evil icky beast, and that would be me. Goodbye, everybody...  
  
What? They're happy to see me? They think I saved them? They're saying that they think I'm their princess?  
  
Goddess!  
  
* * *  
  
The First was enraged. Enraged!  
  
"That girl ruined everything!" it roared, shaking and shuddering in rage, its 500-foot-wide "batwings" pulsating widely. Its primary attendant, a demon that bore a striking resemblance to a 200-foot tall boulder sporting a 50-foot tall jaw filled with stalactites and stalagmites, rocked and rolled in time with the First's shakes and shudders.  
  
"She... will... pay!" The First roared mightily. The boulder-demon gnashed its big pointy teeth.  
  
* * *  
  
The recently-restored hell goddess Glorificus reclined pensively on a recently created Roman sofa, carefully and reverently attended by a small army of brown-robed orcs. Had she been her usual self, she would have noticed the small amounts of dust that had settled on the two large hell- god heads serving as the supports of the sofa, and been quite displeased. But today she was otherwise occupied, contemplating what to do about the sudden "change of management" at the Morcalthian Mines. She occasionally switched between staring at a piece of parchment containing one of the few images of the new Lady of the Mine, and staring off into space.  
  
[I'm not going to lose out a greedy little girl, especially one who so rudely forced me to regurgitate one of my best meals,] she thought. [Even if she did end up helping me get back to my rightful place. But what to do?]  
  
* * *  
  
D'Hoffryn, ruler of the vengeance demons, stared blankly at a piece of parchment containing one of the few images of the new ruler of the Morcalthian Mines. The image left him feeling rather glum. Reclining in his executive chair, he directed his eyes towards an ornately-drawn and framed rendering of a black-haired, black-eyed young woman using magical energies to incinerate a completely flayed, twitching body.  
  
D'Hoffryn opened an ornate wooden box on the corner of his desk. The contents of the box moved around slightly, which was not surprising for a box that contained a family of salt and pepper-furred bunnies. He scooped one of the larger bunnies out of the box, placed it on the table, and began petting it thoughtfully. The bunny looked back at the vengeance demon, twitching its nose peacefully. D'Hoffryn looked back towards the framed drawing of Willow Rosenberg.  
  
[You were supposed to be my greatest creation, Willow,] thought the senior vengeance demon. [My new Anya, but one who'd remain faithful to the cause forever.] D'Hoffryn looked down at the bunny, then back towards the drawing. [What happened? Have I created a monster, instead?] He shuddered.  
  
* * *  
  
Lilah Morgan reclined in her executive chair, trying to suppress a sickness in her stomach. Things had been looking up for the Wolfram and Hart partner. Being reincarnated in a hell dimension in the service of the W&H Senior Partners actually hadn't been all that bad - especially after she'd engineered the corruption of Angel and his (formerly) do-gooder gang. The Senior Partners had given her a promotion to Full Partner, a nice new office more than double the size of her last one (albeit without much of a view), an appointment with a cosmetic surgeon to fix those nasty post-axing scars, and even a free pass to see Wesley Wyndham-Price as much as she wanted. If they could only turn down the heat a little and provide some ice, things would be almost ideal.  
  
But things weren't ideal. Mr. Sabatini, W&H Senior Partner, and Lilah's direct boss, sat across her desk, black-scaled claws clutched around a piece of parchment that contained one of the few images of the new Mistress of the Morcalthian Mines.  
  
"This Willow Rosenberg - she's really done it this time. We've had setbacks before, but nothing like this. Without that ore, our schedule is in shambles," said Lilah.  
  
Mr. Sabatini nodded.  
  
"And the bad part is that she seems to have come from nowhere. There are no prophecies about this girl that we know about, no visions, no divinations. We know she used to hang out with the Slayer, and with Angel, but we have no idea where she got that much power. She can't just be an ordinary human witch, that's for sure."  
  
Mr. Sabatini nodded.  
  
"None of our few sources have her working for any side but herself. It'd be bad enough if she was a Powers champion, but this is our real nightmare - a completely free agent. A loose cannon. A fly in the oint..."  
  
Mr. Sabatini made a sharp gesture, and Lilah chose to stop talking about what a major problem Willow Rosenberg was for Wolfram and Hart.  
  
"But none of that matters, sir. We've already got a team working. We'll capture her, rip her mind out, and chop her into small pieces that can be easily studied. Then we'll figure out who or what she really is."  
  
Mr. Sabatini nodded vigorously.  
  
* * *  
  
Pemth Kendia was left speechless. She stared off into space while clutching a piece of parchment showing one of the few images of the new ruler of the Morcalthian Mines.  
  
This was an unusual condition for the junior sister of the Pemth dragons. The young ruler of her own private realm and a wing of one of the greatest palaces in all the dimensions (her much older and more powerful half-sister controlled the other three), could almost always be counted on to make some comment on the proceedings, whether or not it was desired. Her former human colleagues in Sunnydale knew this all too well.  
  
But some things overwhelmed even Kennedy (Pemth Kendia's nickname), and learning that one's former girlfriend had conquered an entire dimension in about thirty-five minutes certainly fell into that category.  
  
[Looks like we're not going to need to rescue Willow from the Morcalthian Mines after all,] she finally thought. [But we are going to need to make a field trip to the Mines. And I've been home barely a day and haven't had time to burn so much as a toothpick.] She sighed.  
  
* * *  
  
Tranele was one of the best dryads the Chorus of Dryads had ever seen - what she could do with evergreens was considered nothing short of a miracle. The Chorus was grateful, indeed, that the human girl who Tranele used to be had pledged her soul to the service of Nature so effectively before her death. So they overlooked a few things, like the fact that the dryad every so often would travel to a far-off hill, and sing to someone who just wasn't there while her tears flowed like rain. And they also ignored her strange propensity to place a weeping willow tree in the middle of an otherwise beautiful arrangement of pines and junipers. The willow tree looked perfectly beautiful, but the complete scene was just so... untraditional.  
  
Then the Chorus received some... instructions, along with some very special equipment. The instructions pertained to a special assignment, which included some background on just to whom Tranele was singing and why she was so fond of willow trees. It also included some most... unfortunate information about who they now knew to be the dryad's lost love.  
  
Consequently, it was an assignment they thought was perfect for Tranele - especially since, at its successful conclusion, they wouldn't have to worry about their rising star making such untraditional arrangements ever again. To guarantee this would be the case, the Chorus decided that, when they presented the assignment to Tranele, they would make some... minor embellishments to the actual situation. Telling the dryad that her lost love had actually destroyed the Earth, for example. Minor changes, really.  
  
The Speaker of the Chorus had little problem locating Tranele in her scrying pool. She simply looked for the newest glade of evergreens with a willow tree stuck in the middle. Or, in this case, the glade of evergreens with three willow tress in the middle.  
  
"Tranele," said the Speaker, "we need you for a very special assignment."  
  
The dryad, who had been carefully sculpting a small waterfall in front of one of the willow trees, was quite startled by the sudden summoning. But, she quickly regained her balance, curtsied and stood at attention in the general direction of the Speaker's disembodied voice.  
  
"As always, I obey the Chorus," said Tranele, automatically. "May I be of service to Nature?"  
  
Unseen, the Speaker of the Chorus gave a smug grin. [Oh, yes, Tranele,] she thought. [You may. And soon there will be no more willow trees.] 


	5. I Liked It So Much, I Bought the Place

Chapter 5: "I Liked It So Much, I Bought the Place"  
  
The next few days for Willow were a complete blur. She did remember that much of the time involved her getting used to her new body, and its unique functions. There was so much to learn, such as how to hunt feral demons so that she could actually find them, barbeque them just right so they had that nice medium-well done flavor, and properly swallow them so that she wouldn't accidentally make an icky mess.  
  
The most important thing she learned, though, was how to transform her huge, winged bulk back into a humanoid form that looked almost exactly like she remembered herself. Except for the half-black, half-red hair, and the lines of scales on her arms and back, of course.  
  
At first she was skeptical that such a transformation was even possible - compressing a 50-foot body into a 5.5 foot human frame seemed unrealistic at best. But Cassie assured her that most dragons spent most of their time looking like people, and it turned out that there were some very nice former slaves (who had been servants to the Mine's visitors, including several dragons), who had the knowledge to "assist" with the appropriate rearrangement.  
  
"You just have to know how to pack," said Cassie. And, Willow reflected, in her new human form, that the teenager had been absolutely right.  
  
Thus, when the first Assembly of the newly liberated Morcalthian Mines was called a few days later, the assembled group of freed humans and demons only had to convince a skeptical and not entirely predictable humanoid demon that she was now the rightful ruler and protector of the Mines, as opposed to a skeptical and not entirely predictable dragon with microsecond incineration capabilities. A much safer task.  
  
Safer, but not easy.  
  
"But... but... I don't want to be Princess! I haven't been to Princess school! Or even proper lady school!" insisted Willow. "I don't know anything about running a dimension!"  
  
"We can help you. I can make a big board," said Andrew.  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "Not helping. Besides, I'm a big, scaly, mean dragon with a ravenous appetite. I'll eat everything!"  
  
Cassie smiled at Willow, and spoke to her in a sweet, melodic voice. Willow shuddered slightly; it was the same tone Cassie had used a few days ago to persuade her into giving into her dark power. "But we need mean to protect us. We need a big, scaly, dragon Amazon," she intoned. "And besides, you're really smart, and nice, mostly, and some of us can be your Council, and can teach you how to be uppity with the best of them."  
  
Jonathan jumped in. "We can support a dragon here. There's plenty of nasty feral demons roaming around who would be yummy snacks for you, and would no longer be a threat to us. Besides, we need you, really, for our crops and livestock."  
  
"What would you possibly need a dragon for?" asked Willow?  
  
Jonathan smiled, and spoke with a tone disturbingly close to Cassie. "You see, this land isn't all that fertile. It needs to be treated, and cared for. It needs TLC. More than that, it needs fertilizer. Magical fertilizer, actually."  
  
Willow was confused. "So, what? I'm not a fertilizer factory..." Her voice trailed off, as a look of realization spread across her face.  
  
"Oh... oh crap..." whispered Willow.  
  
"That's the idea," said Jonathan.  
  
* * *  
  
Willow Rosenberg:  
  
They're gone now, and a while I'm alone. Here, in this glass-walled chamber that's to be the new throne room for this place. And I'm going to sit in the throne. Me, Willow Rosenberg, ruler of a hell dimension. Goddess!  
  
I shouldn't have let them talk me into it. But they did. And, okay, maybe they're right. Cassie says that the demon world is already having conniptions over the recent "revolution." Counter-revolutionary forces are work, as my mom would say. In this case, big, ugly demon armies. This dimension needs a princess who can give the demon world both a carrot and a stick - a carrot that she can restore order and get the mines working again, and a stick that she can burn the crap out of any would-be plunderers. And that's not even mentioning the whole Miracle Gro (TM) thing. Who else can be their combination ruler, protector, and main supplier of fine agricultural products? Andrew? I like the guy, but I don't think so. So I'm doing this because I have to. They need me. That's the only reason.  
  
The fact that maybe I want the power, just a little, has nothing to do with it. Neither does the fact that I can fix something, really fix something here, and I've practically lived for fixing things. Nothing at all. Nope.  
  
Maybe I should just change my name to Claudius and be done with it.  
  
* * *  
  
"So why do you want me to be Prime Minister?" asked Cassie. "I'm only a teenager. Besides, I know you don't fully trust me."  
  
"Several reasons," said Willow. "First, there's the whole prophetess thing, and well, let's face it, that's kind of helpful, especially in a place like this."  
  
"So I can just be an oracle. What do you need me to be Prime Minister for?"  
  
"And second," continued Willow, "you know more than anybody else here. Much more - both about this place and what kinds of threats we might be facing. Third, you managed to lead these people, and keep their morale up, in truly hellish conditions, and that means something."  
  
Cassie smiled slightly at this. [Good job, already learning to stroke people's ego,] Willow thought. [And then there's reason four...]  
  
Cassie burst out laughing. "And fourth, you think I'm at least somewhat ambitious, and I could be very dangerous to you with all my abilities and knowledge, and that I'm so much better working for you than against you. Very good, your highness. You're learning faster than I thought."  
  
Willow was taken aback. "You... were just... well, it's just rude!"  
  
"Why no, Willow, I wasn't reading your mind. But it was pretty obvious. And thanks for confirming it for me." She smiled. "And yes, I'll be your Prime Minister."  
  
* * *  
  
"Red, have you totally gone off your rocker?" asked Spike. "I'm the Big Bad, remember?"  
  
"So?" demanded Willow. "So now you can be the Big Good. What's wrong with that?"  
  
"What's wrong with that? Red, don't you understand? I did it all - the protection, the soul, the kick-the-Spike in the basement - all for her. For Buffy."  
  
"I think you're lying," said Willow. She grinned at the vampire. "I think you did it because you secretly wanted to be a hero. Even when you didn't have a soul, you secretly got a charge out of saving people and kicking nasty demon butt."  
  
"Now, Red, I don't..."  
  
"That's cause you were made wrong, Spike."  
  
"What? Oh, come on, I was the Big Bad..."  
  
"Poor, funny vampire Spike, vampire with a secret heart. Virtually all other vampires kill their families as soon as they're turned. You? Come join me, oh dear Mother, let's have a jolly good time slaughtering half of London. And don't tell me you didn't spend all that time protecting Dawn just because of Buffy."  
  
"You leave Mother and Lil' Bit out of it!" snapped Spike.  
  
"Like, I said, poor, funny vampire Spike," said Willow. She laughed.  
  
"Now, that's just not fair!" said Spike. "You want me to do this just so you can kick the Spike some more. Make me your bloody sotting pet, that's all."  
  
"Not really. More like you're one of the strongest and most capable fighters I know, and you're smart - you can plan both effective and offenses and defenses. And you secretly are a hero, whether you like it or not."  
  
"Really?" said Spike. He seemed oddly surprised and pleased with himself.  
  
"That's right," whispered Willow. "And if you take the job, I'll even knight you. You'll be Sir William, Captain of the Guard."  
  
"Ooh... now that does have a nice ring to it. I'll be sotting Sir William, if you please. Alright, Red, I'll take it."  
  
* * *  
  
"So I can make a big board?" asked Andrew, excitedly.  
  
"Yes, Andrew. You can make a big board," said Willow. "You can help us keep track of all the major facts we need to know about this realm at any time. Everything from ore production to crop schedules to the exact nature of any opponents marshaling their forces against us.  
  
"And I can use different colors? Not just one?"  
  
"Of course! You have to color code it. I mean, if you didn't use different colored pens, it wouldn't make any sense."  
  
"Yay!" said Andrew. "I'll start making it right away!"  
  
"And better yet," smiled Willow, "you can maintain it."  
  
* * *  
  
Willow Rosenberg:  
  
So I haven't even been on the job a week, when already I'm supposed to go kill a monster. The workers on the lower levels of the mine have been scared to death by what they claim is a thirty-foot long beast with enormous golden eyes that makes very loud roaring noises. No one's been injured yet, but, hey, it's not like I can blame the workers. I wouldn't want to have to worry about becoming monster chow. So that's why I'm here. Hunt and kill the monster, yup, that's me. Because I'm so good at it.  
  
So far, though, I haven't found much of anything other than a few rats. Looks like this big stone chamber is empty, too... oh, except for the big yellow-slit eyes in the darkness. Oops.  
  
I cast a light spell, and quickly see who the big eyes belong to. Why, it's an enormous black panther, a good twenty feet long, with big pointy teeth. At least it's not a frog. Heh.  
  
"Nice kitty," I say.  
  
"Rowrr!" says the panther. Crap.  
  
Suddenly, though, the panther looks surprised. Then, it actually seems content to see me. It lets out a chamber-shaking but contented purr. "Willowww... it's meee... don't you remember? Miss Kitty Fantastico!"  
  
Miss Kitty? Turned into - this panther monster? A talking panther monster? I pinch myself. No, I'm not sleeping. "Miss Kitty? Oh, wow... you've grown. And you can talk!"  
  
Huge Miss Kitty purrs. "Yesss... after I died on the hellmouth, my feline essence was brought here. The old rulers made me intelligent and huge to create a 'beast of burden.' They were mean to me, Willow! No toys or petting or catnip or anything! Just hard work! Rowr! But you showed them!"  
  
I pinch myself again. But, come to think of it, it really does look like a grown Miss Kitty, only freaking huge. And I guess if I can die and turn into a dragon, Miss Kitty can die and turn into a panther. Wow, what are the odds?  
  
Yikes! Miss Kitty flips over onto its back, shaking the chamber walls. "Oh, Mistress, it's so good to see you again!" purrs the panther. "Can you scratch my ears like you used to? Please? Meoww?"  
  
"Uh, sure." I walk over to the big cat, and began scratching her dinner plate-sized ears. Miss Kitty purrs contentedly. .  
  
I'm going to need a lot of catnip.  
  
* * *  
  
"So, anyway, I understand that we need a new name for this dimension," said Willow. "And a new name for the mines, too."  
  
"What do you suggest, your highness?" asked Cassie.  
  
Willow jumped slightly. [Goddess, I hate being called that,] she thought. But she recovered. "Well, I was thinking New Sunnydale. It's not that exciting, but hey, I think it's great that it's nice and nondescript, and well, sunny. And for the mines - well, because they really double as a town, we should refer to it as a town or city. And so, well...." Willow took a deep breath, "I think we should call it Taraville. After a really wonderful woman who... isn't with us any more. There. But if someone else has any other ideas, please speak up. I'm not committed to these names by any means."  
  
There was a pause for a few seconds. Then, one of the new council members - a large, floppy, blue eared demon named Pixltz (or at least, that's what it sounded like, anyway), spoke up.  
  
"Your highness?"  
  
"Yes," said Willow.  
  
"I think we should name the realm and the town differently, in a more traditional style for a demonic dimension."  
  
"Oh? What do you suggest?"  
  
"I suggest 'Realm of Terrible and Avenging Destroying, Killing, Flaying, Slicing and Burning Black-Eyed Girl Who Became a Roaring, Soaring, Burning Dragon and Realm Ruler,' and 'City of Terrible and Avenging Destroying, Killing, Flaying, Slicing and Burning Black-Eyed Girl Who Became a Roaring, Soaring, Burning Dragon and City Ruler'," said Pixltz. He smiled broadly.  
  
The rest of the Council's jaws dropped.  
  
Willow herself almost choked. [Goddess. Is he insane?] she thought. But, she managed to smile at the very pleased demon. "Well, that's... a very nice idea, Pixltz," she said. "It's very creative... and traditional, yup, definitely traditional at the same time. But... uh..."  
  
"You don't like it, your highness?" Pixltz's floppy ears drooped.  
  
"Oh, no, no, I like it I do... it's just that... I think it's just a little too long. You know, on official correspondence and stuff, when we have to write the name, we need something very short."  
  
The demon still looked unhappy, but his ears drooped less. He nodded.  
  
"So, everyone, how about New Sunnydale and Taraville?"  
  
The rest of the Council nodded in agreement.  
  
* * *  
  
The sky gleamed a dusty orange, as it almost always did during the day. But it still made for a suitable backdrop for her first knighting ceremony, Willow thought.  
  
The preparations had been made earlier that day. Willow had cut apart and re-sown some of the Lord of the Mine's old dress robes to make new "princess-appropriate" robes that were more her size. She had also spent several hours magically reforging what had been the old Captain of the Guard's sword. In addition to making the sword smaller (as the old Captain had been seventeen feet tall), she also buffed out the old seal (a black skull crossed with a whip and a mace), and carved in a new one (a willow tree, of course) that Willow found to be far more appropriate.  
  
That left a ceremony of knighthood. Willow, initially, had no idea of how to write one, but, as it turned out, Jonathan and Andrew had really come through. The oath they had written eloquently expressed a knight's obligation to the land and to her, and Willow's obligation to the knight, as well as subtly pointing out both the rewards for loyalty and the punishment for treason. She wondered how they had come up with it on such short notice.  
  
And so, before the assembled Council and other leaders of the land assembled in the Lord of the Mine's former chamber - [oops, now my chamber] Willow reminded herself - it was Jonathan and Andrew's ceremony she would use as the soon-to-be Sir William approached her and bowed.  
  
"Are you resolved to this?" asked Willow.  
  
"I am," said Spike.  
  
Willow extended the hilt of the sword to Spike, and used the brief diversion to quickly re-read a paper containing the oath of knighthood. "Then take the hilts and repeat after me. Here I do swear fealty and service to New Sunnydale, and to the Princess of the realm..." she said.  
  
Spike responded in a voice as solemn as he could muster. "Here do I swear fealty and service to New Sunnydale, and to Red... oops I mean the Princess of the realm..."  
  
Willow laughed. "To speak and to be silent, to do and let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, living or dying..."  
  
"To speak and to be silent, to do and let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, living or dying..." said Spike.  
  
"From this hour henceforth, until my Princess release me, or death take me, or the dimension end," said Willow.  
  
"From this hour henceforth, until my Princess release me, or death take me, or the dimension end," said Spike.  
  
"So say, I, William Gray, redeemed vampire of the Order of Aurelius."  
  
"So say I, William Gray, redeemed vampire of the... sodding hell, do I have to say that name?" blurted out Spike.  
  
Willow smiled. "No," she said. "And this do I hear, Willow Rosenberg, Princess of New Sunnydale, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance. Take this sword, Sir William, as a symbol of your new obligation."  
  
Sir William took the sword and smiled. The assembled audience applauded.  
  
* * *  
  
Soon after the ceremony, Willow found out exactly how Andrew and Jonathan had "written" the ceremony so quickly.  
  
"You mean to tell me I just knighted Spike with a passage from the Lord of the Rings?" demanded the flustered dragon.  
  
"Yeah... but it's a great scene! " said Andrew, excitedly. "You know, where Pippin pledges his service to Denethor, Steward of Gondor after the mighty Boromir, Son of Denethor briefly gave into the darkness of the One Ring but then died to save Pippin and Merry from a horde of fearsome orcs!"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "You've got to be kidding."  
  
"No! By taking that oath, Pippin pledges his loyalty not just to Denethor, but the True King Aragorn Elessar, who at last renewed the dignity of the Numenorean kings of old!  
  
Willow sighed and muttered under her breath. "Whatever" was the audible thing she said.  
  
Andrew had no time to respond, as he was quickly interrupted by an incoming Sir William.  
  
"Red - um, excuse me, your highness - that blasted cat has gone off its rocker this time," said Spike. "It thinks it's a horse, and demanding that it be my noble steed to ride into battle!"  
  
"Rowrr!" said a loud, beast-like voice behind Willow. "Jonathan told me I could be like Shadowfax! Can I, please, Willow? Meoww!"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes again, and thought some more unkind thoughts. Then she had an idea. "Miss Kitty, you can only be like Shadowfax if you can turn into a horse. Sir William will need a horse to ride into battle."  
  
"Rowrr! Okay," said Miss Kitty. There was a crackling noise. "Look at me now, Willow!"  
  
Willow turned around. Standing in front of her was a jet black mare with golden-slit eyes. Spike whistled. [Now that's not half bad,] thought Willow.  
  
"Looks like you've got a mount, Sir William," said the princess.  
  
"Rowrr! Hooray!" said the horse.  
  
* * *  
  
Willow Rosenberg:  
  
So, all in all it hasn't been a bad week. The realm has a new name, a new seal, a new Council, a new Captain of the Guard, and even a noble steed for the Captain of the Guard to ride. What was better was what didn't happen - no attacks and no battles, either internal or external. Just a nice, peaceful hell dimension under the wise and totally deserving stewardship of its princess. Me.  
  
Who am I kidding? 


	6. How Did We Get Here, Anyway?

Chapter 6: "How Did We Get Here, Anyway?"  
  
Willow Rosenberg:  
  
So I was being all executive-like, and learning to multitask. To my left was a pile of calculations related to the amount of Morcalthian ore we're mining a month, and the amount of ore we currently have stockpiled - ore that was going to be used for the First's invasion of Earth, but that will now go to buy cool stuff for the realm - you know, like clothes and seeds and housing materials. To my right was a pile of calculations related to how much ore the First would need to have its armies smash the inter-world barrier and invade the Earth. I made the mistake of looking at the two results at the same time.  
  
I thought the two results should be about the same. That was the whole point of my going fiery and scaly, you know, so I could stop the First from taking the ore and taking over the Earth that evening. But they weren't the same. They weren't even close. I mean, we're talking from New Sunnydale to Sunnydale distance here.  
  
The world-barrier smashing number was slightly less than one hundred thousand tons of ore. I checked it again. I checked it twice. I had some of the staff who formerly did ore-yield calculations re-check it, and they agreed with me.  
  
The amount of ore in the warehouse was a little more than fifteen thousand tons. I had the warehouse staff check everything again. Twice. I dealt with them laughing at me when they said the current warehouses couldn't possibly hold more than twenty five thousand tons, and wasn't that clear from looking at the warehouses? I even dealt with them laughing hysterically when I asked if there weren't any super-secret jumbo-sized warehouses somewhere.  
  
The amount of ore the mine produces in a year is about five hundred tons. (We've cut it back to two hundred tons a year, to allow the miners to have a life since they're like, not slaves anymore. Besides, since we're not supplying the First anymore, we have a lot less demand. And, the former workers do have a lot else to do, like building houses and growing food. But I'm rambling again.) This means it would have taken almost 170 years to supply the needed ore to the First - assuming the mine continued to run at full blast and every ounce had been stockpiled. In reality, it would have taken well over 200 years.  
  
She lied to me.  
  
* * *  
  
The First was enraged. Enraged!  
  
"That girl ruined everything!" it roared, shaking and shuddering in rage. The boulder-demon gnashed its big pointy teeth.  
  
"She took my ore!" it roared, shaking and shuddering some more.  
  
"She burned my Army!" it roared, practically bouncing up and down. The boulder demon began to roll wildly.  
  
"But, uh, excuse me, mighty great one, but ya see, I've got a plan," said the recently reincarnated Bishop (otherwise known as Caleb).  
  
The First stopped shuddering. The boulder demon stopped rolling. They both looked at the Bishop.  
  
"What do you have in mind?" grunted the boulder demon.  
  
* * *  
  
The recently-restored hell goddess Glorificus reclined satisfactorily, on a recently reclined Roman sofa. This time, she noticed the small amounts of dust that had settled on the two large hell-god heads serving as the supports of the sofa. She noticed the dust because she was no longer distracted, having cleverly decided to dispatch Jeeves as her official ambassador to Morcalthia. Jeeves wouldn't let her down. Jeeves would either get the flow of ore restored or get enough info on Morcalthia's defenses to show Amateur Girl who the real Lord of the Mine really was. Or else she would eat Jeeves' entrails, and black orc entrails were quite yummy. So, every way she came out a winner, and she was quite pleased. Except of course, for the dust on the sofa.  
  
* * *  
  
D'Hoffryn looked at his newly appointed ambassador to Morcalthia, the freshly reincarnated vengeance demon Halfrek. "So you understand the plan?"  
  
"Absolutely. I look around and assess the situation. If she's good, I zig one way and we get a kick-ass vengeance demon. If she's no good, I zag the other way and we solve a problem permanently."  
  
"Very good. And Halfrek, I assume I don't need to remind you of where your loyalties are. Willow can be a quite charming young woman, but you know well the... dangers of becoming, shall we say, attached, to the wrong individual."  
  
Halfrek grimaced and nodded. She still had a few painful burns left on her body. D'Hoffryn was letting them heal, but slowly.  
  
D'Hoffryn smiled. "Very good. And don't forget, there will be substantial upside if, no, when you succeed."  
  
Halfrek smiled weakly. "Really?"  
  
"Yes. Not only will I heal you permanently and restore all your powers, I'll let you play not so nice with the bunny."  
  
A wicked grin spread across Halfrek's face.  
  
* * *  
  
Lilah Morgan reclined in her executive chair, trying to suppress the same sickness in her stomach. [At least I'm post-scars,] she thought.  
  
The plan was simple, and the best she could think of, but still highly risky. Get a young lawyer into the Morcalthian mines by offering free legal services to the new ruler. Have the young, expendable lawyer do reconnaissance. Then, when the time was right, send in a Wolfram and Hart strike team to grab the red-headed usurper, chop her into easily-analyzable pieces, ship the pieces back to the appropriate hell dimension, and acquire a "legal fee" equal to every pebble of ore in the mines' warehouses. All this assumed that the red-headed usurper didn't find out first, and incinerate the expendable lawyer, the strike team, a good chunk of W&H, and her stylish office in the process.  
  
She decided she could really use some ice water.  
  
* * *  
  
Pemth Kendia was happy. She was not just happy from the rush of burning one hundred acres of prime old-growth forest that had been raised just for that purpose, although that was quite a source of happiness. She was also quite pleased with her strategy for dealing with her recently-separated girlfriend.  
  
The plan was simple, yet elegant. First, send an ambassador over to Morcalthia on behalf of the great and mighty dragon Pemth Kendia. Next, assuming that Willow was now sane (and the recent reports out of the dimensions seemed promising on that count), arrange a grand visit to the dimension. And then, give Willow the wonderful surprise of seeing her beloved girlfriend again, and thrilling her with the knowledge that said girlfriend was really Kendia's most mighty and noble self in disguise. From there, it would be a simple matter to convince Willow that she did not have the necessary experience to run or defend such a vitally important dimension, and that Pemth Kendia should run it instead. Of course, she'd sample some of the fine feral demons and forests while she was there. Why, she bet she'd even get to sample Willow some more - now that would be really quite nice.  
  
Pemth Kendia smiled. Most days were good days when you were a Pemth dragon, but this day was really, really good.  
  
* * *  
  
Cassie was finishing some paperwork when Willow burst into her office. She was completely non-perturbed by Willow's obvious anger. She looked up and smiled sweetly. "Willow, hello! I was just finishing up some paperwork," said the teenager. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"You... lied to me."  
  
"About what?" asked Cassie, nonchalantly.  
  
"You know damn well. The ore."  
  
"What about..." Cassie quickly stopped talking when she saw Willow's eyes darken.  
  
"Don't give me that. You said the First would have enough ore to break through to Earth the very night I got here. That's not true. They won't have enough for least another two hundred years."  
  
Cassie shrugged. "Well, I may have exaggerated a little..."  
  
"So you admit it then. You lied to me. You used me," said Willow. "You and the others. You pushed me into becoming Dark Willow, then sent me mental messages to get me to turn into... this dragon... thing."  
  
Cassie gave Willow a wicked smile. "Yes. And?"  
  
Willow was expecting frantic denials, and was totally taken aback. She tried to say a few words. "But... but... it was dangerous!"  
  
Cassie let out a horrid laugh. "Dangerous? Dangerous is being sent to hell and mentally raped and tortured on a regular basis because you had a heart attack on top of a hellmouth. Most of the other people here have similar stories."  
  
"But, but... you had no right to do what you did to me!"  
  
Cassie let out an even worse sounding laugh. "Rights? You're absolutely correct, Willow. I didn't. But looking forward to nothing but decades of torment until going irreversibly insane and becoming a slave for centuries kind throws your morals out the window, you know? We used the tools at our disposal. You would have done the same."  
  
"But... I'm a dark evil scaly thing now! You made me into this!"  
  
The teenager sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Dark, yes. Scaly, yes. Evil - that's entirely up to you. And I've got to say, so far your track record as a dragon is so much better than when you were a human. Haven't burned or flayed the crap out of anyone lately just because you felt bad, have you? Haven't had much of an urge to, either?"  
  
"But..." Willow trailed off into silence, and looked down. This had not gone as she'd expected.  
  
Cassie filled the silence. "And we're far from the only ones, Willow. Do you have any idea how many there are out there who want to use you? Have used you? I've got a fairly good idea of your history. You know what I mean as well I do."  
  
"But why? Why does everyone want to use me?"  
  
Cassie grinned. "It's not you. It's your power. It's always about the power, as the saying goes. Or in your case, how people want to leverage your power."  
  
"Oh. And is that all I am to you? A power tool?"  
  
"No. Of course not. You're a godsend to us, Willow."  
  
"Really, hmm?"  
  
"Absolutely. I wouldn't sworn an oath of allegiance to you if I didn't mean it."  
  
"You're sure of this? That you will not betray me again?"  
  
"Definitely. I absolutely swear it."  
  
Willow smiled briefly. Then her eyes flashed black. "That's very good, Prime Minister. Because if you, or any one of your associates, ever does anything like that ever again, I will kill you. That's if I'm feeling merciful. Repaying oath-breaking with vengeance is not an empty slogan, little girl."  
  
Cassie nodded.  
  
Willow stormed out of the office. Then she briefly stuck her head back in the door. "And if you're so good conspiring, you can damn well figure out who murdered my girl and tried to use me to burn the world." Her head left the door.  
  
Cassie grimaced, but called after her. "I've got candidates. And, Willow - I know there were two different groups!"  
  
Willow quickly stuck her head back in the door. "Two things. First: not good enough. Second: what do you mean, two different groups?"  
  
Cassie cringed. "The aura traces from that day - whoever wanted you to end the world was affiliated with the Powers. No, I'm not kidding. Whoever killed Tara really, really, wasn't."  
  
"Like I said, work harder." Willow's head promptly left the door.  
  
Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. [That went better than I thought,] thought Cassie. [Looks like she's learning.]  
  
[Glad not to disappoint you. And remember your oath,] thought an angry dragon.  
  
Cassie gasped.  
  
* * *  
  
It was a long way down to the prison cell holding Rack. [In more ways than one,] thought Willow. Despite the distance, she still reached the cell unpleasantly soon.  
  
"Hello, Rack," she said.  
  
The disheveled wizard jerked around, apparently surprised. "Strawberry! I mean, your highness Strawberry! Pleasant surprise, oh yeah. What can I do for you?"  
  
"I think you have an idea."  
  
"Ooh," he chuckled. "Are you here to execute me, again? Because I've been such a bad boy, Strawberry.... so baaad you wouldn't believe it."  
  
"No," said Willow. "I don't do that anymore."  
  
"Oh, sorry, didn't realize you'd changed your scene. It's been what, a whole three weeks now since you incinerated the place? And a year or so since you flayed Warren and drained me? Not that I minded, it of course. Best I've ever had, that was."  
  
Rack seemed to expect some response. Willow did not give him the satisfaction of providing him with one.  
  
"So, then, your highness, what would you like?"  
  
"My prime minister says you have some important information."  
  
"Cassie! Oh yeah, sweet Cassie. She's really something, ain't she? Why, I've got to say, she's the second best..."  
  
"I am here for the information, Rack."  
  
"Oh, right. Well, you know me, I help people. Helpful Rack, that's what they always say. You know, kind of like when..."  
  
"I am quite familiar with your 'help,' Rack."  
  
"Well, yeah, anyway, you know, I help them, and they provide me with some help in return. Lots of people I've helped, Strawberry, lots of 'em. From all over the Realms, not just Mine soldiers. All over. And you know what?"  
  
"You're still helping them," said Willow. "You're helping them inter- dimensional long distance. Because we - I'm - letting you."  
  
"Absolutely right, Strawberry, absolutely! Most thankful, I am. Anyway, I'm getting lots of help back. Lots of help, in many different ways. Most important, though, is the information."  
  
"And what does the information say, Rack?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, Cassie has all the specific details, so she can run it down for you. But the bottom line is that just about everyone was knocked back on their asses by your smash-and-burn job, Strawberry, and everyone's trying to do something about it. They're also salivating over the thought of owning all that pretty, shiny ore. The First is the first of the worst, of course - it's bat-ness wants ore and revenge in the worst possible way. But lots of other bad dudes out there, too - the skeezy lawyers, the Big Rock-ette, the Blade Queen, even some of the Powers are throwing out all kinds of bad mojo. Even those who want to be 'helpful' I'd be real wary of - beware of demons, dragons, even Powers and Powers agents bearing gifts, Queen Strawberry."  
  
"And what do you suggest I do about all of these threats to this realm, Rack?"  
  
"Oh, I'd say start with the basics - a little smart prioritizing who your enemies really are, a little playing sides against each other, a little divide and conquer, a little smart diplomacy. And match it up with a few demonstrations of your glorious, massive-ass power, and we might just all survive." He winked at Willow. "And most of all, use your greatest advantage."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"You're underestimated. They think you're a fluke, an accident, a gazillion to one long shot who'll be a total pushover. But I know you, Strawberry. I know you in many different ways, you might say." He winked again at Willow, who gave no response. "Your taking this dimension might be an accident. But I know your keeping it won't be, and that this dimension won't be your last."  
  
"Thank you," said Willow. She turned and walked out of the chamber, her footsteps slowly becoming quieter.  
  
Rack, however, picked up a small sense of satisfaction in the young ruler. [Oh yeah, Strawberry. What a woman.]  
  
* * *  
  
Willow Rosenberg:  
  
Sometimes when I need to be alone, I come to this spot. Here, three miles above the plains of this dimension, on the rim of mountains lining this world. In addition to being beautiful, it's pretty secluded unless you can fly. And right now that pretty much means me.  
  
I always wanted to be powerful. No, not so much powerful as useful, and be able to fix things, really fix them. Not to mention become a princess with a big castle. And I got everything I wanted. I can even fly. And I should be absolutely miserable. After all, I'm in hell. Everyone's perfect Willow, gone totally to hell. But I'm not. I'm only partially miserable.  
  
I wonder what the witches of the Devon coven would say to me now. I wonder what Giles, Buffy and the Scoobies would say. "Oh, poor Willow Rosenberg, she used to be such a good little girl. So sweet. So pure. So reliable, mostly." Either that or cry hysterically. And I'd say "Weep for Willow Rosenberg, if the tears will come. She's gone."  
  
If they'd even bother to do that. 'Cause to them I'm just a tool. For Buffy, Scoobies, schoolmates, family, Rack, mine slaves, Cassie, council, and even to the bastards who murdered Tara (Goddess, Tara - I miss you so much), I'm just a piece of equipment. Or maybe the workhorse.  
  
That's it; I give you Willow Rosenberg, the sweet, pure, reliable, resolute, and ever so usable and eventually disposable workhorse. That's who they think she is. But that Willow is gone now, and she's not coming back.  
  
Of course, it's not like she ever really existed to begin with. And they don't know that.  
  
That thought makes me smile.  
  
* * *  
  
The Speaker of the Chorus was quite agitated. Tranele had taken the news and the assignment... quite hard. More importantly, she did not fully believe her superiors - she bolted off immediately to try to find confirmation that Earth had indeed been destroyed. Quite improper for such a promising young dryad. And very inconvenient; it forced the Chorus to scale back the story. The Speaker told the hysterical dryad that she had not heard the whole affair - somehow, Earth had indeed been saved at the last minute, but Sunnydale was turned into a crater. And, indeed it was true that Sunnydale was a crater. The fact that Willow was not actually... responsible was a minor detail and one not given to Tranele. The reports coming out of Morcalthia of Willow providing some degree of comfort and protection to the Mine's slaves were likewise not provided.  
  
The visions of Willow on Kingman's Bluff, and the spotty remembrances of Willow burning her way through the Morcalthian Mines, conversely, were more useful and appropriate, and were given to the dryad, who had taken to her chambers in an inconsolable state. The Speaker waited an appropriate time to allow the dryad to grieve, and then sent in Counselors to comfort Tranele, and assist her in recalling both her inner strength and her duty to the Chorus. They even assisted her in realizing the "truth" - that her Willow was long gone, and honoring her love for Willow meant killing the monster in her place.  
  
And, at length, the Counselors succeeded. The young dryad faced the Speaker, with as much resolution as she could muster, without breaking into sobs again, without giving into the despair that had destroyed her heart. "I serve the will of the Chorus," Tranele whispered. "What would you have me do?"  
  
The Speaker was pleased. Tranele was indeed quite... promising.  
  
* * *  
  
This is the end of part one of Princess of Twilight.  
  
Part Two, "Measures of Devotion," will begin in a few weeks. 


End file.
